


Why are your hands always so warm?

by akaashook



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers, Hands, Homophobia, Homophobic family, Internalized Homophobia, It Gets Better, M/M, Metaphors, Space Metaphors, Stargazing, Stars, The Author Regrets Everything, a lot of stars, atsumu is really patient, black jackals fan event but like not actually the event, touch starved sakusa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26148967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaashook/pseuds/akaashook
Summary: "Let’s lie on the ground""Ew" Sakusa replied, but he fell on the lawn nonetheless."Here" Atsumu handed him his jacket "put it under your head so ya won't get yer hair dirty"Sakusa didn't accept the offer immediately, he spent endless seconds staring at that piece of dark red fabric as if every mystery of the cosmos was hidden between the warp and weft weaves that made it up.Then he timidly stretched his arm, finally taking that source of warmth into his hands, letting his fingers touch Atsumu’s for a moment."Whatcha have in mind?" he asked suspiciously."Today is yer birthday and I want to give ya a gift"
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu & Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 32
Kudos: 315





	Why are your hands always so warm?

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who's back with another fic full of angst? 
> 
> This time I wanted to write something based on parallelisms: past/present, distance/closeness, cold/warmth and, since I'm phisically incapable of writing something that's not sakuatsu, here they are again.
> 
> BEFORE YOU READ: PLEASE BE AWARE THIS MIGHT BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE BECAUSE OF HOMOPHOBIA AND THERE MIGHT BE SOME REFERENCES TO DEPRESSION AND A REALLY HEAVY EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE!!
> 
> That being said I need to clarify that english is not my first language, so forgive me if there are any mistakes

Sakusa Kiyoomi was ten years old when he first saw a shooting star.

It was March twentieth, his birthday.

He didn't celebrate it. He hadn’t wanted to. His parents wouldn’t let him anyway.

He didn’t get any presents. He had no friends willing to give them to him. He had no friends.

The only people of his age he talked to were those twins next door. But they didn’t know anything about his birthday.

Or so he'd believed. Until that evening, when those two had knocked on his door and asked his mother for permission to play with him in the garden.

His mother had stared at them for a while, as if she was wondering whether to kick them out right away or let them stay. But then they had said "Please" in unison with a gentle acute voice, and they had shown her their bright, deep eyes. And she had caved.

They played volleyball for about an hour. They were still inexperienced and the ball kept getting out of hand, especially after Sakusa’s spikes which, thanks to its incredibly flexible wrist, were unpredictable. They continued to miss the passes because none of them knew exactly how to place their hands, many of their baghers were unstable and led the ball to fall on the grass producing a muffled sound.

At one point Osamu yawned "I’m tired. I think I’ll go home to eat something and then I’ll go to sleep. Come with me, 'Tsumu?"

"In five minutes"

Osamu shrugged and left, saying good night to Sakusa with a lazy smile.

Sakusa watched Atsumu follow him with his eyes.

Only when the door of their house closed, the remaining twin opened his mouth "I want to show ya something, Omi-Omi"

He grabbed Sakusa's hand, and he let himself be dragged by him and by curiosity in the backyard, where no one would disturb them.

"Let’s lie on the ground"

"Ew" Sakusa replied, but he fell on the lawn nonetheless.

"Here" Atsumu handed him his jacket "put it under your head so ya won't get yer hair dirty"

Sakusa didn't accept the offer immediately, he spent endless seconds staring at that piece of dark red fabric as if every mystery of the cosmos was hidden between the warp and weft weaves that made it up.

Then he timidly stretched his arm, finally taking that source of warmth into his hands, letting his fingers touch Atsumu’s for a moment.

He did as he was told, feeling an icy chill run through his back at the contact with that damp surface. But he did not complain.

"Whatcha have in mind?" he asked suspiciously.

"Today is yer birthday and I wanted to give ya a gift" he said, dropping next to Sakusa "But I didn’t know what you like, so I thought a lot about what to give you and, in the end, I came up with this idea" he smiled.

"How didja know?"

"What?"

"That today is my birthday"

"Ya told me" he replied confused.

It was true. Sakusa told him last year, on his first day of school, but he never thought he could remember it, let alone give him a present. For some reason he felt something pinching his eyes and nose, as if he were on the brink of tears. He didn't move.

"Anyway" Atsumu continued when he realized that Sakusa wouldn't say anything "I wanted to give ya a star"

Sakusa suddenly turned to the other child, "Yer lying. It’s impossible"

Atsumu’s eyes stared at him, a smart smile brightening the. Stars reflected on his brown irises almost imperceptibly.

"Do ya have so little faith in me, Omi-kun?"

"Yeah" he deadpanned.

"Then I won't give ya my gift" Atsumu pulled out his tongue.

"No" Sakusa hurried to say "I want to see it"

"Look up"

His gaze turned towards the void above them.

_It’s beautiful_ , he thought.

The crescent moon glowed softly, spreading light waves in the night sky. The stars flickered, making it look like they were living creatures, and they were winking at them. Sakusa smiled and, perhaps, winked back.

"See? Many of those stars up there form constellations"

"I know" he said.

"I know ya know"

"So why are ya trying to explain it?"

Atsumu gave him a light blow to the side with his knuckles.

"Lemme brag for once" he complained as he crossed his arms and turned to the other side.

"Okay, okay go on" Sakusa grabbed him by his shirt, too light for the cold of March, and tried to turn him around.

He could have chosen to ignore him, he could have waited for him to start talking again, he could have avoided giving him all the attention that Atsumu constantly demanded. But he decided not to, and he didn’t even know why.

When their eyes met, Sakusa suddenly let him go and looked away. Now the only thing he could see was the miles and miles of immense space above his head.

In the corner of his vision, he watched Atsumu lift an arm towards infinity.

"What are ya doin'?" he asked, intrigued.

"Wait" Sakusa looked at him, his eyes were focused, he closed one as if he was taking aim and moved his fingers a little.

With a sudden movement he closed his fist, it seemed that he had just grabbed something.

"Here it is"

Sakusa frowned "That’s not true. It's impossible" he repeated.

Atsumu once again gave him that fox-like smile, the one that made Sakusa understand that he he knew more than he did (or at least he looked like he knew more) "If you’re so sure then you’ll be fine if I keep it all to myself"

"Ya didn’t catch anything, ya can’t keep anything" he tried to say flatly, but a glimmer of uncertainty was clear in his voice.

"All right, then it’s mine. Say goodbye to yer gift, Omi-Omi"

"No"

"So now you want it?"

"Sure"

Atsumu laughed.

Sakusa rolled his eyes.

"Come here, take it" Atsumu whispered as if he was telling him a secret. And maybe he was.

Sakusa slowly approached. It seemed like an incredibly solemn moment to him. What would it be like to hold a star? Would it be hot or cold? Would it burn him? Atsumu didn’t seem to be in trouble, so he could deduce it was a no. Would it be solid or liquid? Sakusa imagined it was the same size as a marble. Would it have kept its brightness or, away from its home, would it have become opaque?

All the answers he was looking for were inside Atsumu’s hand.

For this reason, Sakusa brought his hand over the one of the other kid, holding it briefly, surrounding it in such a way that, once Atsumu would free that star, it wouldn't risk falling.

Subconsciously, he had assumed that stars were creatures of glass.

Sakusa did not want to break anything so fragile.

Atsumu’s hand was warm, as if the heat of the object he was holding had begun to filter through the tissues of his skin and was spreading throughout his body. Slowly Atsumu opened his fingers, letting that intimate and enveloping sensation make its way from his fingertips to his wrists, gently caressing the veins that showed through, his arms, the back that a few minutes earlier had trembled from the cold.

He held his own fingers around the creature that Atsumu had just passed him.

_It’s light._

He untangled the star from the kind embrace in which he had held it.

"There is nothing" he said, disappointed.

"Yeah" Atsumu agreed.

"Why?"

Atsumu took a hand to his chin with a reflexive air, but Sakusa knew him well enough to know that he already had an answer at ready.

"Mom says it has to do with warmth" he whispered.

Sakusa said nothing.

"Didja feel it?"

"Yes" Sakusa confessed.

"That’s it. That’s our star"

And against all his expectations, Sakusa smiled. Bringing his little hand over his heart, letting the residual warmth propagate beyond the fabric of his sweatshirt, inside the bones, seeping among the valves of that little beating organ.

"But now it's yer star. Happy Birthday, Omi"

"Thank you" he said under his breath.

They turned to look upwards again.

And that’s when he saw it. His first shooting star. "Quick, Omi, make a wish" Atsumu almost screamed, proving to him that he hadn't been the only one to see it.

That was their star too.

Sakusa turned to observe Atsumu’s toothless smile, the empty space between the canine and the central right incisor where his tooth had recently fallen was as dark as the night that lived all around them.

_I want to look at the stars with him again_ he thought.

It was a stupid wish. Atsumu would make fun of him if he knew.

But he wouldn’t have known.

And Sakusa and Atsumu wouldn't go back to looking at the stars together again.

…

The day his family left Hyogo prefecture, Sakusa woke up with the sound of rain tapping on the glass of his window.

It was April. Sakusa was ten years old.

The first sound he heard after opening his eyes was his father’s low voice coming from the other room. He said that it was the only way to prevent "that lunatic" from approaching his son again, that it wasn’t normal, that it wasn’t natural. People like Miya Atsumu were sick, there must be something wrong with their DNA.

He heard his sister and his mother agree with him, his brother said nothing.

And Sakusa’s heart beat, beat, beat.

His eyes stung, keeping them open hurt, closing them was painful.

Cracks ripped his lungs open every time he tried to inhale.

And Sakusa didn’t understand, he didn’t understand at all.

All he remembered was Atsumu’s radiant smile, the way their fingers were intertwined when they held hands, Atsumu’s fresh breath tickling his cheek.

And he wondered _what’s so wrong with that?_

He didn’t understand, he didn’t understand, he didn’t understand.

He remembered playing a game of tag in the garden until his legs had succumbed to the weight of his own slender body, the wind ruffling the strands of his hair, Atsumu’s arm reaching out for his head to put them back in place.

And he thought _His hands are kind_.

He remembered the warmth of the star that Atsumu gave him about a month ago, his fingertips against his palm, the care with which he treated that invisible celestial being.

And he wanted to know _what did he wish for that night?_

And his heart beat

beat

beat

In unison with the drum of the sky.

The same sky that was crying all the tears that he was too afraid to cry.

…

It was many years later, during the first year of high school, that Sakusa Kiyoomi met his old neighbors again.

His team, Itachiyama, had qualified for nationals and was also a favorite for the victory. But it wasn’t the only one: Inarizaki was continuing to advance quickly, thanks to the duo of which he had heard about since middle school.

Sakusa knew that the moment he feared so much would come. And it would come soon.

The twins had changed.

Now the brown of their hair was barely visible under the locks of an artificial color: gray for Osamu, mustard yellow for Atsumu.

Sakusa had crossed them sometimes in the corridors of the Tokyo arena, where the national tournament was being held. Every time he saw them even with the corner of his eye, he hurried to change direction.

He didn't want to talk to them. He had nothing to say to them. He owed them no explanation.

However, ignoring them forever wasn't possible, at least one of them.

"Look who we have here" Miya Osamu's voice said, deeper than he remembered.

He turned and saw him leaning against a wall, immediately next to the men’s restroom.

Sakusa said nothing.

"Oh right, I forgot how good you are at this" he scowled.

Sakusa was paralyzed.

"Silence is just yer specialty" his tone was corrosive "but don’t worry, I don’t want ya to open your mouth"

Sakusa’s lip trembled.

Osamu crossed arms "I- we were really hurt, you know? Do you even know how much harm you caused to Atsumu? Not that you care."

The air around him was no longer breathable, he swallowed the dry, fine sand of the desert of his throat.

At that moment a dark-haired boy came out of the restroom, his eyes green and sharp, surrounded by an equally sharp eyeliner. His gaze slowly shifted from Osamu to Sakusa, reading the tension between the two. He grabbed a flap of his teammate’s dark red jacket and said, "Come on"

Osamu turned to him and smiled softly, as if Sakusa no longer existed, as if there was no room for him in his world. And it was true.

But a part of his brain reminded him that years ago that same smile was dedicated to him, by a child with the same lips as Osamu, with red cheeks and eyes full of starlight.

He shook his head.

"See you in the final, Sakusa"

...

Itachiyama won that day's match.

Itachiyama won the final.

On the other side of the net Kita Shinsuke and Aran Ojiro laid a hand on Miya Atsumu's shoulders.

Sakusa had nothing to celebrate.

…

_At the age of eight, Sakusa realized that he didn't enjoy physical contact._

_It was something he found annoying, someone’s dirty hands desecrating the immaculate temple of his skin, causing cold chills on his back, destabilizing him._

_That’s why he didn’t like to play tag, or hold hands with other children when the teachers at school said he had to, so he kept away from everyone and, often, spent a whole day without saying anything._

_Maybe if he was quiet enough, the others would have forgotten about him at some point._

_But the Miya twins never let him be forgotten._

_They invited him constantly to their house and, when he refused (most of the time), they showed up on the front of the door of his house, the entrance of his temple, asking permission to come in._

_Sakusa wouldn’t let anyone touch him. He allowed them to cross the threshold of his living space, but he never gave him access to the most intimate part of his sanctuary._

_Not until he grazed his knee._

_Osamu came up to touch him, because his leg was shaking and he needed to understand how bad the situation was, he stroked his calf to calm him down. It worked._

_Together with Atsumu they accompanied him into their home and helped him to take care of the wound. When Sakusa’s pain finally became a distant light drumming, Osamu got up to go get something to eat, offering to bring food for Sakusa as well (but not for Atsumu, he would have to get up and fetch it himself)._

_Meanwhile, Atsumu continued to gently wipe his knee with a cloth to dry the reddened area._

_Sakusa noticed that, all the while, Atsumu hadn't touched him except when he helped him walk._

_He blinked his eyes. The other told him to wait a moment and ran to his room, risking to trip over his own untied shoes._

_Sakusa smiled._

_Atsumu quickly returned with a tube of cream and a colored band-aid with little foxes on it, and sat next to him._

_"D'ya prefer to do it yerself?" he asked, his eyes looked huge from up close._

_"No, ya do it"_

_"Sure?"_

_Sakusa nodded a yes._

_He watched as his hesitant fingers spread the cream on his skin. He wondered how many times the twins had the same thing happen to them. He imagined that they were many since they were now experts in this field, so much that they could do it all by themselves without the help of any adult._

_"It’s okay if ya touch me, you know?" he said, seeing uncertainty dancing on his irises, feeling it on his epidermis._

_Atsumu tilted his head, but he didn’t look back at him, all his focus on his knee._

_"I thought ya didn’t like to be touched" he murmured._

_Sakusa never explicitly told him not to touch him, so he must have guessed somehow, in a way his brother was still not aware of._

Osamu’s hands are kind, but yours are…

_Sakusa had no idea how to communicate with words how not-so-disgusting it was to be touched by Miya Atsumu, he didn't know how to express the sudden change of temperature that he perceived on his cheeks, he was unable to focus on anything other than the surface of contact between his skin and Atsumu’s fingertips, the delicacy with which they moved._

_"Your hands are warm"_

_It was all his mouth was capable of._

_And, for Atsumu, it was enough._

_Because he smiled, showing the gaps between his teeth as white as the milk Sakusa drank every morning._

_Slowly, carefully, he placed the multicolored patch on the wound, massaged it for a few seconds and, finally, laid his lips on that very thin layer of plastic between them._

_"Mom and dad say it makes the pain go away faster"_

_Sakusa thought,_ his lips are warm too.

…

The following year Sakusa and his cousin Komori were invited to participate in the All Japan Youth training camp. Of course they both agreed.

It really wasn't Sakusa’s lucky year.

Because the only person he never wanted to see again was there, because his smile had remained the same even at a distance of several revolutions of the Earth around the Sun.

Sakusa should have started to believe in luck, but the stars weren't on his side. Not since he had left their warmth behind.

Along with the kid who had made him discover it.

Sakusa tried to ignore the brown eyes that settled on him several times, he tried not to return that look, he never approached Miya Atsumu for fear of getting burned.

But Miya Atsumu was everywhere, he was around the corners of the corridors, sitting in the locker rooms, standing in the showers that Sakusa wanted to declare his before anyone else.

It was during the last day that he dared to approach, an unwanted flying object breaking through the vital bubble of an isolated celestial body.

Miya Atsumu reached out to him, three of his fingers brushed his neck.

And Sakusa was a little kid again: he woke up all sweaty in the middle of the night just to hear the voices of his parents whispering about abominations, he was a scared creature, hiding from his father’s hands, he opened his eyes just to wake up in a nightmare again.

"Omi-ku-

"Don’t touch me" he screamed.

He moved to push Atsumu away, but he was quicker to withdraw his arm.

"Don't you dare touch me" he said "Don’t come any closer. People like ya are _wrong_ " But he couldn't turn around, he couldn't let go again, he couldn't stop watching the realization make its way inside his eyes, the way in which they darkened, until the eclipse of the sun was complete.

Atsumu understood what he was referring to. He remembered. He knew.

His mouth closed. It opened again. It remained ajar. His eyelids blinked quickly. Slowly. Imperceptibly. His lips trembled, there was no longer any trace of that characteristic smile of his on them.

Miya Atsumu was breaking in front of him.

Sakusa Kiyoomi had finally broken Miya Atsumu.

He was certain that, if he paid enough attention, he could see the exact points where the cracks started to form on his skin, where his pieces started to disintegrate, his threads were unraveling into the matter particles that make up the universe. He was sure that at least one of those cracks was on his right hand, the one that tried to make contact with that part of his neck that was still burning.

There was something dark in his voice when he said "Sakusa"

The name of the family he so despised, the family that so despised him.

"It won’t happen again"

Sakusa had no intention of meeting him again to make sure he was telling the truth.

"Never" he corrected him.

"It will never happen again" Miya Atsumu said, collecting his pieces from the floor on which they had fallen so ungracefully, forming a hill of interstellar dust.

He turned around, leaving Sakusa behind.

Only when he watched him turn the corner did Sakusa allow himself to breathe.

_Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Let the air circulate in your lungs. Breathe. Breathe._

It was over.

It was farewell.

Sakusa thought _his hands are still warm._

…

_It all began with shivers walking slowly on Sakusa’s arms, making his skin crawl, while others were dancing on his back, between one vertebra and another._

_At first it seemed nothing strange, after all, at the age of twelve, the cold was one of Sakusa’s best friends. It followed him everywhere, crept into the pores of his skin, among the inlets of his spine, between his toes._

_It had been two years since the warmth had left him. Sakusa realized it for the first time immediately after a shower. The heat was never enough, it never presented itself in the right quantities: either it was too little, leaving him at the mercy of the tremors that shook him immediately after leaving the bathroom, or it was too much, suffocating him under the jet of scorching water that continued to burn him, to tear that layer of epithelial tissue, as sensitive as it was fragile, that Sakusa used as an armor, as a shield._

_Even the fire of his chimney seemed to never be enough, the flames seemed to stretch toward him, glowing arms of dark light and smoke that wanted to infiltrate his lungs, causing him to collapse from the inside._

_The cold was close to him, it was a thin blanket that wrapped his body in an embrace that paralyzed him and made it impossible for him to open his mouth to ask for help. The only movement his lips were capable of was vibrating along with his banging teeth._

_The cold was familiar to him, snuggled between his fingers when he raised them to the starry sky with the hope of finding a lost friend, praying for the night to grant a wish made so many nights ago, deluding himself that past and present may be neighbors again, as they once were._

_Then came the headache. And the feeling of nausea. And the pain that wound around his joints and muscles, that squeezed his stomach into a tight grip._

_It was on a winter's Saturday that Sakusa Kiyoomi realized he had a fever._

_And all he wanted to do was stay confined within the perimeter of his bed, under his clean (but never warm) sheets. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay still forever. Motionless until his heartbeat returned to a normal pace, until he felt light again, until the only stars to be observed were those in the celestial ocean above him and not the dots pirouetting before his eyes._

_That day there was no one in the house, his father would come back tomorrow, he would stay for a day and then he would leave again._

_And Sakusa felt tired, exhausted, weak. Powerless._

_He fell asleep looking at the ceiling._

_When he opened his eyes he noticed a dark figure looming over him, a mysterious shadow, frightening enough to make him almost wince, if only he had more energy in his body. But then he slowly managed to focus on his room, his gray walls, the ajar door, his father in front of him._

_"Get up" he said "I need help in the kitchen"_

_And Sakusa was terrified to say no, but he couldn’t lift himself up. He coughed._

_"Move" that coarse and authoritative voice said._

_Sakusa tried to pick himself up using his small hands, using his elbows as leverage, but his muscles betrayed him and soon he fell back on the mattress with a muffled thud._

_"I don’t feel so good" he whispered, the words sounded broken in his own ears._

_His father grabbed his arm and pushed him abruptly. His fingers were cold. His hands were blades in contact with Sakusa’s paper skin. Another tug and he would have shattered._

_"Do you think the world will stop for you just because you’re sick?"_

_Sakusa almost fainted when the horizontality he had become accustomed to became his opposite. His axis of rotation had tilted dangerously, leaving him lost among the dust of a distant and glacial cosmos, as distant as the stars that had abandoned him, that he had abandoned._

_"Answer Kiyoomi, do you think the world will stop for you?"_

_Sakusa staggered in search of something, anything, to cling to to avoid the call of gravity._

_"No"_

_Sakusa never allowed himself to get sick again._

…

The only thought Sakusa could formulate while entering the MSBY Black Jackals locker room for the first time was _it's cold_.

Not that Sakusa wasn’t used to it.

He knew the cold in the same way that he knew the smell of the sweat that permeated from every corner of the room.

It was fine. It was all fine.

His first day of practice was impeccable. Sakusa didn't allow himself a single mistake, he didn't allow himself to moderate the strength of his services, the unpredictability of the rotation that he gave to the ball with his wrist.

It didn’t matter whose agile hands the toss came from.

Everything was fine.

Sakusa stretched out on the floor of the gym, first to the right, then to the left, then in the center, letting his muscles slowly melt, letting that familiar pinch penetrate his bones, the fatigue of the last hours diminish.

He didn’t dare look around.

Everything was fine.

Apparently he had spent too much time stretching because, when he finished, he saw that many of his new teammates were no longer there, probably they had gone to take a shower.

Now Sakusa had two options: he could wait for everyone to finish or he could go home and lock himself in his familiar bathroom.

As tempting as the latter was, Sakusa had to exclude it, after all he would never drive to his apartment with his skin still sticky with sweat, especially not at that time. He didn’t want to risk getting sick. He would have waited.

At last he felt the roar of water fading. Stop. The others had finished.

He ran to the shower that seemed cleaner and stayed there for what seemed hours to him.

Everything was fine.

He quickly got dressed and made to grab his bag when a voice behind him called his name.

"I’m going to ask ya one question and you’re going to give me an answer, okay?" Miya Atsumu said, there was something gloomy about his face that made him sharper. More dangerous.

Sakusa sat on the bench two meters from him. It was his way of nodding. Whatever Atsumu wanted to know, Sakusa imagined that he owed it to him.

_Your back is too stiff_ , his brain suggested, _relax_.

But Sakusa couldn't.

"What are ya doing here?" his eyes were black holes. Dangerous.

And Sakusa remembered.

He remembered a night sky on which hundreds of bright spots floated. The warmth of a child’s fingers. A smile that could equal sunlight.

He remembered his father’s voice. The nightmares he drowned in. The cold of what he had been calling his home for years, his room, his bed.

He remembered screaming. Seeing a stellar explosion in the brown eyes of a boy who had once been a friend. Fragments of matter falling to the ground driven by gravity.

He remembered that he had no choice.

And then the moment when he could finally decide for himself: college.

He had chosen astronomy.

It was the first time he had disobeyed his parents. They wanted something else for him. For them, it made no sense to understand things as distant as celestial bodies.

But Sakusa knew well the cold space void.

The distance was his confidante.

Once the stars had been his friends. He had held one in his hand and by the hand. He had smiled and had received a smile in return.

And now his star was far away.

So far away that the meters between them had become kilometers, and finally not even the kilometers were sufficient to define that abyss that separated them.

The kilometers had become an astronomical unit.

The distance of the Earth from its Sun.

Of a planet from its star.

~~Of Sakusa from Atsumu.~~

He remembered all those birthdays spent watching the night in the hope that it would answer his questions. Every time he had reached out his hand toward the sky, to a warmth so remote that he could no longer hear even its whisper, not even a sigh.

All the times that sky was darkened by the lights of the city, by the clouds that promised a storm.

All the times the wind had crept into his bones, that he had held his breath trying to catch a star, but he had found his hand empty and cold, his heart heavy.

Perhaps if he could understand those stars as dear to him as they were distant, he would have understood something about himself.

Maybe he could have moved on from the hatred that surrounded him.

But to leave something behind, you have to be able to say goodbye first. You have to make peace with it.

That’s what Sakusa was looking for in Atsumu’s sharp eyes: forgiveness.

However, forgiveness was a distant finish line for someone who, like Sakusa, was still at the starting line.

The first step is to apologize.

But the words didn't come out of his mouth, they had melted into a lump of dust and dry sand within his throat. His vocal cords didn’t want to collaborate, his lips had forgotten how to produce every sound.

_What am I doing here?_

"Okay, ya know what, I don’t care" Atsumu’s voice was still flat.

How long had Sakusa been silent? Hours? Years? How many times did the Earth continue to rotate around its axis without stopping for anyone, without stopping for Sakusa?

"But I want to tell you something. Many of the players here are like me and none of 'em has ever created problems. Now ya have two options. You can leave the team - after all, you’re good at leaving - or you can learn to respect them."

_Breathe._

_It hurts._

_It's all your fault._

Atsumu had said 'respect _them_ '. He hadn't included himself in the group.

"I just want ya to know that we’re all teammates, and if you need anything, you can count on them. No one here will touch ya. I will not touch ya"

_Air._

_Into the lungs._

_Let it in._

'You can count on _them'_.

"But if ya dare make them feel the same way you’ve made me feel for years, then we will have a problem" he ended with the same gloomy tone he had started with.

_Tears._

_Hold them._

_Don’t let them out._

"That being said" he smiled as if nothing had happened, starting to put his things in his bag with robotic movements "I hope one day ya will find a beautiful woman who is able to teach you what it means to love and to be loved in return

"Ya know, human beings often want other human beings to feel like them, to be understood. Maybe when ya fall in love, you’ll want everyone to feel the same, without making any distinction

"Yer an adult now, I like to think ya learned something in college. What did you study? Economics, like yer father?"

"Astronomy" If Sakusa hadn't been able to open his mouth before, now it had been impossible to stop it.

He saw Atsumu’s back stiffen, his head tilt as if to study him.

Then he shook it "Anyway, I don't know why I’m telling ya all of this. Why wouldja take advice from me? I can’t even tell you I’m speaking from experience" he accompanied this sentence with a bitter laugh.

Sakusa prepared for what was coming.

"After all, you left before I could figure it out."

He put the bag on his shoulder and walked out the door.

Leaving Sakusa in the company of the cold.

Sakusa ran to take another shower.

…

_It had happened that the twins invited Sakusa to sleep over._

_It seemed stupid, since they lived a few steps away from him, but Sakusa had never said no._

_Miya house didn't have a guest room and the twins refused to let Sakusa sleep on the floor, so they asked him to pick a bed to spend the night in. They would occupy the other._

_Sakusa had indicated the one he thought was cleaner, namely Osamu's._

_The latter chuckled while Atsumu complained._

_"Are ya sure there are no problems?"_

_Osamu smiled "Don’t worry, I spent months in our mother’s womb with him, one more night won’t make a difference"_

_Apparently that extra night made a difference to Atsumu._

_Sakusa was a light sleeper, and his eyes suddenly opened when he heard the rustle of sheets being removed. He imagined that it was the twins moving in their sleep, but then he heard some light steps._

_The door of a closet opened._

_Someone pulled something out._

_Then this someone collapsed on the ground, halfway between the two beds in the room, and began to move, as if he was making himself comfortable._

_Sakusa turned to understand what was going on and, thanks to the soft moonlight that filtered through the window, he was able to distinguish the silhouette of a child with his head resting on a folded blanket and body wrapped like a roll in another blanket._

_"What are ya doin'?" He whispered._

_"Samu moves too much when he’s asleep, he’s already kicked me twice and keeps putting his hands in my face. I can’t take it anymore"_

_Sakusa thought it would be impossible to fall asleep in that position._

_"Do you want to sleep with me?" the words came out of his mouth without his brain's permission._

_Atsumu smiled "Depends... d'ya move a lot while you sleep?"_

_"A little" he admitted, remembering every morning when he woke up embracing his own pillow "But not as much as yer brother"_

_That was enough to convince Atsumu._

_Sakusa moved to make room for him, the other kid positioned at the end of the bed behind him. Atsumu probably noticed when his back got stiff because he said, "Don’t worry, I don’t move at all, so I won’t touch ya"_

_Sakusa turned to look at him "I already told ya it’s okay if you touch me"_

_Atsumu smiled, but he remained silent for so long that Sakusa imagined the conversation was over._

_Then, just when he decided to close his eyes, something touched his cheek hesitantly. And Sakusa was suddenly awake._

_Now they were staring at each other, their lips were slightly bent upwards, Atsumu’s hand had found the courage to fully position itself on Sakusa’s cheek, his thumb was caressing the soft skin near his mouth._

It’s warm.

_Atsumu’s fingers traveled to the two moles that Sakusa had above his right eyebrow, gently tapping on his forehead. Their stares were intertwined in a slow and tender dance._

_"I like yer moles, Omi-Omi" he said quietly "They're adorable"_

_The moon enjoyed playing with the lights and shadows that projected among the curves of his face._

It’s warm.

_And even after Atsumu’s hands left him, Sakusa kept chasing that warmth all night._

_Enough to wake up the next day with his arms around Atsumu’s waist._

…

Atsumu wouldn’t touch him.

Never.

Unlike Bokuto, he never approached him to try to high five him after a perfect spike or a service ace. On the bus he always sat three, four, six seats away from him and when, for some reason they were less than a meter from each other, Atsumu made sure every time there were at least two layers of protective cloth between them.

But volleyball can be an unfair sport, rotation can be an excellent puppeteer, and it often wanted them side by side under the net, forcing them to collide when their arms touched mid-air after a jump for a block. And even in those moments Sakusa noticed how, unconsciously, Atsumu moved away from him.

But on the court there was no time to dissect his thoughts, especially those kinds of thoughts.

And if Sakusa felt burned at the exact spot where their bodies came in contact, all he could do was hope that that fire wouldn’t damage any of his internal organs.

Away games were always a cruel thing. Because at the time of deciding how to share the rooms, Meian had thought he could put Atsumu and Sakusa together, ignoring the effect that any physical force exerted on two bodies now accustomed to the void as theirs were.

Atsumu never asked him if he needed to change rooms, he knew that if he wanted to, Sakusa would simply do it without giving him any explanation, because he no longer had to explain anything to him, he owed him nothing.

It happened during one of those many nights spent in the cold of their company.

In those days the hotel was full and the Black Jackals were assigned rooms with only one bed. For the first time, Atsumu asked him if he wanted to sleep with someone else. And Sakusa, despite his beating heart threatening to rip open the tissue cage it was locked in, said no.

"Well, ’s not like it's the first time" Atsumu shrugged, probably remembering two kids snuggled up under some crumpled sheets.

"Don’t worry" he consoled him "Ya know I hardly move at all" he finished before falling on one side of the bed.

_I know, it’s not you I don’t trust._

Over the years, Sakusa had stopped tossing and turning in his sleep until he found something to anchor himself through the night. But in a situation like the one he was in now, he wasn’t sure that past and present were two distinct moments in his life.

It seemed that they had returned to being neighbors…

But it wasn't like that.

Nothing reigns in space.

That’s why space is silent.

Because sound needs matter to propagate through, but where there's no matter there's a means of transmitting sound waves, vibrations have never stood a chance against the void.

And that was the difference, the anomaly that changed everything and sent every system into a breakdown.

Between present and past, a crack had opened and it was filled with emptiness (not air, because air allows the passage of acoustic waves and gives a purpose to our vocal cords. Because air is necessary to be able to breathe, but every time Sakusa approached that abyss he felt it leaving his lungs).

The space between two celestial objects is silent.

The space between Atsumu and Sakusa was empty.

And communication between two distant bodies like them

was impossible.

…

Sakusa woke up in a dream.

Usually, when he dreamed, he let himself be carried away by the invisible flow of rarefied images, but there was something incredibly lucid, dangerously vivid, in the reality in which he was.

In this place the ceiling was no longer a limit and above him stretched an immense dark ocean, full of floating dots that, like water lilies, rippled the surface of the water. It seemed that they were winking at him.

Sakusa could have drifted between the currents of that ocean.

But he had no time to waste looking at the stars when Miya Atsumu was pinning him to the mattress of their bed. The same place where they woke up every morning wrapped in a tender embrace of limbs and souls.

It had to be a dream.

Because in real life Miya Atsumu's hands were as far as the sky. But here they were free to wander lazily over his body, to discover its boundaries, to trace the lines that separated its muscles.

"Omi-kun" he whispered against his throat.

With no more space between them, vibrations were free, eager to be heard.

And Sakusa heard them loud and clear in every inch of his body. Atsumu’s tone was low, sweet, it was music against his sensitive skin, which made him vibrate with excitement, expectation, his breath became an amalgam of sighs and moans.

"Good morning" Sakusa answered with a sleepy smile and that hoarse tone typical of those who have just left the realm of dreams (ironic, if you consider that he was still in it).

_I want to touch him_ , he thought.

"I want to touch you" he said, because apparently, in this kingdom, Sakusa was honest.

"I know" Atsumu smiled as one of his hands moved to caress his cheek, while his lips moved from his neck to his jaw, leaving small burning kisses along its perimeter, until he reached his ear, where he murmured "That’s why I can’t let ya do it"

Sakusa didn’t understand, but his brain suggested that Atsumu was right.

"However" he continued "that doesn’t mean I can’t touch ya" he used the most provocative tone Sakusa had ever heard. It was a challenge, but it was also a promise. It was the reason his back bent over to ease the chills that were slowly passing through it.

Then Atsumu ran his tongue to the edge of his ear, descending with a dangerously calculated calm towards his neck, savoring the beating of his heart, stretching the collar of his shirt to walk the entire length of the left clavicle and leaving a kiss that could as well have passed as a gust of wind on his chest, straight above the heart.

One of his hands was still holding Sakusa’s wrists.

"If I let ya go now" he said, looking at him through his eyelashes "will ya move?"

Sakusa shook his head with such vigour that he could lose it, if only it hadn't already happened.

Atsumu freed him to dedicate himself to his chest, undressing him with unparalleled efficiency, stroking him with his thumbs in every place where the muscles tended under his fingers, sinking his nails on his hips. Insinuating those curious digits under the elastic of Sakusa’s shorts, touching one, two, five sensitive areas.

Sakusa groaned.

But he didn't move. His arms were motionless, almost paralyzed, heavy. But not heavy enough not to feel the gravitational pull of Atsumu’s hands when his fingertips returned to move on the most delicate part of his forearm.

"Ahh" he couldn’t help himself.

"Omi" he went back to whispering sweet words in his ear "Kiyoomi"

His irises rotated so much that they threatened to escape their orbit. He was practically panting. His lips were more impatient than ever.

"'Tsumu" he was sure he looked desperate.

"Tell me everything" his lips left him, letting the echo of those words consume him.

"I don’t want you to stop"

"Wasn’t planning to" that fox-like smile was there, printed on his face. And Sakusa thought that confidence suited him, that it brightened his beautiful brown eyes with a light that, in nature, is comparable only to that of the stars.

_This_ , he thought, _I wake up to this every day._

Sakusa blinked and Atsumu’s shirt disappeared.

_I could get used to this._

Atsumu grabbed his thighs, quickly slipping between them, kissing them as he carved moon-shaped marks on them. He bit all the places where the skin was more tender and sensitive. Sakusa felt tears pinching at his eyes, just one push to make them fall. Atsumu took advantage of that moment of weakness to make his tongue travel from the knee along his inner thigh.

Sakusa sank his head into the pillow to suffocate all those whining sounds that continued to cross the threshold of his lips without permission. Meanwhile Atsumu murmured incomprehensible nonsense with his lips still on him. And every single vibration on his skin was pure electricity, it was stardust.

And here he was again so close to his face, Sakusa’s lips trembled in the sweet expectation of what was to come, vibrating in front of the half centimeter of space that separated them from Atsumu's.

"'Tsumu, what did you wish for that night?" The words left his mouth before he could stop himself. Sakusa wondered why he wanted to know so bad.

Atsumu smiled, carrying a hand on Sakusa’s heart. It was warm. It was a primordial fire that would have annihilated him. And Sakusa couldn’t imagine a better death.

Because in a world where past and present shared the same bed, where apologies were accepted, where wishes came true, dying under Miya Atsumu's hands didn't sound like a nightmare at all.

Because in a world where no one is abandoned, where the cold doesn't exist, where the limits of reality are blurred, it's easier to see the stars.

And while Atsumu’s nails were sticking into his chest to tear his heart out, Sakusa thought

_It’s always been yours._

…

This time Sakusa woke up in the world that tasted like a mistake, but was the right one.

He found his arms around something and prayed for that something not to be Atsumu.

It was his pillow.

In this reality Atsumu was light years away from him.

With his head still too clouded by the halo of sleep that had held him in an embrace for hours and too restless to fall asleep again, he decided to get up and rinse his face. But once in front of the bathroom, with darkness veiling everything around him, Sakusa didn't notice the other heart beating less than a meter from him. Not until both of them tried to flip the light switch at the same time and their fingers brushed.

Sakusa heard Atsumu wince with a choked verse.

And the light was on, revealing him. He had jumped backwards, because now the crack between them had widened by at least two meters. His expression, in sharp contrast to that of his dream version, screamed in silent terror, stars exploded in his eyes, the thunder of those irises echoed in Sakusa’s chest, paralyzing him on the spot.

"I..." But he couldn’t go on, because the explosion had consequences, and the landslide it caused had blocked all the words in his throat. Because Sakusa wasn’t ready.

"I know" Atsumu whispered "that’s how I felt for years"

The worst thing was that in his voice there was no trace of cruelty or spite, just a sort of dark resignation, of visceral sadness.

So that’s what Sakusa was for Atsumu: trauma.

He thought he wanted to pass out, he thought he was about to pass out, he wondered how Atsumu would react if he passed out there and then.

He hoped that he would leave him on the ground to rot.

And he wanted to tell him that everything was fine, even if it was a lie, even if he didn’t believe it either. He wanted to call him by his name and hug him and whisper all the apologies he never had the courage to say out loud.

And he tried to stabilize his breaths, find the right words, but his mouth didn’t know how to start.

Saying 'Atsumu' required a certain degree of intimacy, closeness, affection.

Saying 'Miya' would desecrate the holiness of his name.

Sakusa just wanted to fall on his knees and pray for forgiveness. Or perhaps he had already gone further, perhaps he should have begged for redemption.

And his lips opened, closed, trembled.

"I..." He repeated, and repeated, and repeated. Because apparently, in this world, he was only able to think of himself.

"Sakusa"

_Kiyoomi._

He lifted his eyes so quickly that his head threatened to detach from the rest of his body.

"It’s all right" Atsumu said the words that Sakusa had failed to say seconds ago. Atsumu was brave, and honest, and warm. The opposite of Sakusa who, more than twenty years old, still needed someone to hold his hand, even if this someone were the cold and his cowardice.

"At least ya didn’t scream this time" he shrugged.

_Yes, but you flinched. How can it be all right when you’re flinching like that?_

And then the thought struck him that Atsumu had felt that way for years. Years of that torture that Sakusa was struggling to manage even for a few minutes.

He brought a hand to his mouth. The transition from the dimension in which he had been a few minutes ago and the one in which he was now was too abrupt, and now Sakusa was nauseous.

He collapsed against the wall, sliding on the ground. He carried his legs to his chest and slammed his head against his knees as hard as he could. Maybe if he kept this up, he could break it, and then he wouldn’t be anybody’s problem anymore. The world would have kept turning with one less nuisance.

He prayed that Atsumu would ignore him. That he would go to the bathroom and go back to bed without wasting time with that indefinite lump of emotions that Sakusa was. He prayed for Atsumu to rest because next evening there would be a match and Atsumu hated to arrive unprepared on a game day, because he deserved to finally relax. And if the price Sakusa had to pay to see a happy Atsumu were endless sleepless nights, he would gladly do it.

But Atsumu crouched down next to him and started "Look, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to touch-

"Stop saying that you’re sorry as if it’s your fault" his tone was low, his voice was hoarse, Sakusa wanted to shout, but the last time it had only caused more pain. And Sakusa was tired of all that pain, especially because it was Atsumu who had to bear the heaviest burden "It was never your fault. And you know it. Deep down, you know it. It was always mine, _always_ , all these years it was my fault" and while he was talking he kept tearing the skin off the sides of his fingernails because he needed to keep his hands occupied, he needed to keep his eyes on something other than Atsumu’s face.

_Tell him you’re sorry. Apologize. Tell him._

"And there was never anything wrong with you. _Never_."

'Never' had been the last word he'd said before he'd lost him. And now he wanted to use it to bring him back.

"And I don’t know how to apologize. I can’t. Because apologizing would be selfish of me. Because if you’d forgive me, I’d feel better with myself, but it wouldn’t be enough because you’ve been suffering for _years_ and I don’t know ho- ahhh" he felt a wave of pain blossoming from his finger, where his nails had peeled a little too much skin. He looked at his left index finger and saw blood.

Red as the fire that was consuming his view.

He just wanted to lie on the floor and sleep forever.

"Let’s go on the bed" Atsumu’s voice was so close "Can ya get up by yourself?"

Sakusa shook his head.

Atsumu extended a hand.

Was it a peace offering? Or perhaps, more likely, a truce.

Sakusa accepted it and clung to it as the tide clings to the Moon, as the Moon clings to the Earth. And he let himself be carried by its pull of attraction.

Atsumu invited him to sit down, pulling a tube of cream and a band-aid out of his suitcase.

He sat down next to him, but not too close, and handed him everything, but Sakusa’s head was spinning so much that even the smallest of efforts was impossible.

"Can you do it?" Atsumu nodded and set to work, his touch was light and gentle against his cold and calloused skin.

But Atsumu's hands had always been like this.

Careful. Delicate. Soft.

Caring. Agile. Reliable.

Warm.

"I’ve never been mad at ya, you know?" Atsumu said quietly, "I’ve never been angry at ya. Besides, abandonment is something I’m familiar with. It's just, you were the first to do it, and that’s why it hurt in a different, deeper way. But I never thought ya were a bad person.

The day you left, I saw yer parents were filling up the car with stuff, and I thought you’d go on a vacation or something. So I went over to ask your mother, but she said you were moving away 'cause ya didn’t want to live near to a house full of mistakes anymore, she told me to get out of the way and not to bother her.

But I didn’t believe her. I couldn’t believe that after all the time we spent together, ya thought Samu and I were 'mistakes', even though I didn’t know exactly what your mother meant at the time, but I was sure it wasn’t a good thing. So I asked her where you were, I told her I wanted to say goodbye

And she told me that ya didn’t want to talk to me, that you didn’t want to deal with me anymore, and that you didn’t want me to get close to you, ever again. She told me ya weren’t like me, you were normal and I was sick and she would never let his son come into contact with a sick person.

And, even if I didn’t understand, I knew that her voice was poisonous. There was hatred in it. She hated me. You hated me. But I’ve always refused to believe it. In fact, when I saw you back at the training camp, I thought I’d finally get an explanation, that I’d finally figure out whether your mother had lied or not. And I was hoping she had

But then ya yelled at me, and all those things I considered lies became truths. Ya really hated me. And Samu had told me to give it up, but I ignored him and I got too close and I got burned.

I thought it was over, ya know? We had given each other the worst of goodbyes. So imagine my amazement when Sakusa freaking Kiyoomi showed up at the Black Jackals tryouts, imagine how it feels to see the past that so much despised you coming back. I was scared. Ya were some kind of demon that hell had assigned me, I couldn’t get rid of you. Maybe I was really born with a curse.

But I've never been mad at ya. Because as I grew up I understood. Hate is something we are taught, Omi-kun. And you’ve never skipped class. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry ya had to grow up like this. I’m sorry there was nothing I could do to help you. I’m sorry I was so powerless in the face of yer pain.

But we’re adults now, aren’t we? It’s time to think for ourselves and not in the way our parents taught us. So, please, tell me once and for all what you want"

Sakusa registered tears descending on his cheeks and, when he looked up, he saw them reflected on Atsumu’s face. For a few seconds they looked at each other, letting those little streams flow undisturbed.

Atsumu had finished wrapping the band-aid around his index finger, so kindly that Sakusa hadn't even noticed, but their fingers were still intertwined and Sakusa was not sure if he wanted them to separate.

"I want to hold your hand" he said.

And Atsumu smiled slightly.

As a child Sakusa had always had a soft spot for Atsumu’s hands. And now he could finally feel all of their warmth.

When a setter tosses the ball, all ten fingers must touch its surface. However, most of its weight falls on the thumb, index and middle finger. The fingers must be spread open, favoring a gentle and relaxed contact, but at the same time firm and steady, able to cushion the impact of the ball and to push it in the air towards the spiker that could win the next point.

For this reason he caressed with care every millimeter of that soft skin, sliding his fingers between Atsumu's, massaging those same fingertips that he trusted blindly during their games.

For a few seconds he stared at the ball of their hands and contemplated the idea of bringing it to his lips, to tenderly kiss his knuckles, his palm, his wrist. But he didn't.

Silence was pleasant, tears continued to fall quietly. Sakusa was tired, and he was sure that Atsumu was too.

He let his heavy head fall on Atsumu’s shoulder and whispered "I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry" he no longer knew what he was apologizing for.

Atsumu imitated him, leaning on him. And they remained like that until they collapsed backwards from exhaustion.

That night neither of them moved.

…

Sakusa Kiyoomi was not gay.

This was what he had kept repeating to himself for years, what his family had been repeating to him for years. No. His parents never used that term, too fond of words much crueler, words that had crept into Sakusa’s head, that had made him tremble with fear and uncertainty for what felt like an eternity.

Sakusa knew what it meant to wake up with his heartbeat resonating in every fiber of his being. And hearing it beat beat beat beat until the only thing Sakusa could wish for was for it to finally stop.

Dying under a ceiling as gray as his life didn't seem the worst option when compared to the whispers that Sakusa heard coming from the kitchen, his mother's tone, his father’s heavy, rough voice.

But dying under a sky full of stars with Miya Atsumu’s lips on him sounded like the paradise Sakusa would never know.

And waking up with his fingers intertwined with those of the man who had held his heart in his hands reminded him of what it meant to feel good.

The sunlight, filtered through heavy cream-colored curtains, illuminated a boy’s face, weaving a canvas of shadows under his closed eyelashes, between the blond locks of his hair, and made him the most beautiful creature that Sakusa had ever seen.

He wondered what would have happened if he had gotten a little closer, if he had slowly crossed the few-inches distance that separated their mouths, he wondered if Atsumu would let him do it, if in this world it was possible to have what the Sakusa and Atsumu of his dream had.

He wondered if he was actually awake.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was not gay.

This was what his siblings taught him, with their indifference, their reluctance to spend time with him.

But that’s not what Komori taught him when Sakusa saw him holding another boy’s hand, when he saw their faces so close that he had to avert his eyes. At that moment he thought he did it because he was disgusted, but perhaps it seemed something too intimate to meddle with his curious look. Because when those two finally drifted apart, his cousin was smiling.

And, after years, Sakusa asked himself _what’s so wrong with that?_

Sakusa had never met the proximity that Komori had known with that boy, but now, sitting on the bus next to Miya Atsumu, he thought he still had a chance to make its acquaintance.

That closeness had taken the form of a copper wire that connected them in an embrace of musical notes, which allowed him to listen and be listened to, to understand and to be understood. After all, that’s what it means to make art, isn’t it? Letting souls talk, hearts touch, bodies feel.

And if, while music filled their ears with life and their world with colors, Sakusa’s little finger reached slightly toward Atsumu’s, both pretended not to notice.

And if, due to a curve or a bump, their fingers ended up grazing each other, neither of them spoke of it.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was not gay.

That’s what he believed, the truth he lived in.

But that truth was a liar, wearing a mask so well-sculpted it seemed sincere. And the mask fell to the ground, fractured, when Miya Atsumu’s arms wrapped around his body, that night when Sakusa had drunk enough to want to scream, but not enough to forget.

In fact, the next day he remembered exactly how Atsumu had to drag him from the club where the Black Jackals had celebrated yet another victory up to his apartment, how he had to rummage in his pockets to find the key, how he’d brought him to his bed.

It was at that moment that Sakusa had collapsed on him, sinking his head into his chest, feeling his muscles even under the layer of cotton that separated their skins.

Atsumu had tried to lift him by placing his hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look into his eyes. And Sakusa had looked, far too much, into those irises of a brown so dark that it looked black, or maybe it was just an effect of the soft light that kissed his face.

Sakusa wanted to kiss his face too.

His lips.

"Omi-kun yer cheeks are so soft" he said, grabbing them both between the thumb and middle finger, playing to deform them as children do with modeling clay, because maybe Atsumu was still a child, or maybe because he wasn’t completely sober either.

And Sakusa kindly grabbed the back of his head to pick himself up, passing his fingertips over his shaved hair. Sakusa had put his hands on Atsumu’s hands on his cheeks and asked the question that had tormented him for years, "Why are yer hands always so warm?"

And he intertwined their fingers.

He wasn't sure that he had received a reply, but if he had, it must have been muffled by the sound of his own heart that beat beat beat, reminding him what it meant to be alive.

…

It was a matter of scars.

How people carry them.

Some prefer to hide them, not to let the eyes of others have the opportunity to see them, it is a way to protect themselves, to feel invincible or, simply, less vulnerable. Some wear them as if they were medals, memories of a past they managed to defeat, of difficulties that were successfully overcome.

Some scars are large enough to be noticed at first glance, others so small to be barely visible. Some are on the skin, others are not.

Atsumu and Sakusa’s wounds were beginning to heal, but they wouldn't go away, they would remain on their bodies and on their hearts, memories of what had been, of what would no longer be, of who Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi were now.

Their wounds had taken the first steps to separate themselves from that past of hatred that had generated them, that had fed them and raised them as if they were its children. And when a wound grows it becomes an abyss.

But slowly days became months.

Hands kept getting closer and closer.

Wounds healed.

However, being able to move forward does not mean leaving behind the road already traveled.

Neither of them wanted to forget. To forget meant to give up what had brought them where they were in that moment.

Atsumu and Sakusa wanted to remember.

And they did when they went to visit Osamu, because Sakusa owed him an apology, too. They arrived shortly after his restaurant closed. Osamu’s eyes looked like a knife ready to cut him into pieces with the same care he used to cut the ingredients. Sakusa imagined he didn't deserve a death as clean as the one Miya Osamu’s eyes were promising him.

But another pair of eyes intervened to his rescue, because Atsumu engaged in a mute conversation with his brother, meeting halfway in a space that belonged only to them, that only the two of them knew, a place where Sakusa had no access and could only wait behind the door, in the hope that the dialogue would end in a positive way, praying not to be the cause of other problems.

At last Atsumu moved, leaning his elbows on the counter. He ordered for both of them.

"I will poison him" Osamu threatened.

"He’ll eat it anyway" Atsumu countered.

Sakusa didn’t like to eat food prepared by someone else. But that was something Atsumu knew.

So it was a challenge.

Right now, he had to trust Osamu’s hands in the same way he trusted Atsumu’s, he had to believe that they were as careful in the kitchen as his brother’s were on the court.

"I'll eat it anyway" he said with his eyes on Osamu, realizing in that moment that, although similar, his eyes were profoundly different from Atsumu's.

_They have always been_ , a voice in his head suggested.

Osamu retired to go and prepare their orders. Sakusa turned to Atsumu.

"I hate you"

A smile.

"You’ll thank me"

As soon as he said that, Atsumu got up to go to the bathroom, leaving him alone in the company of the fear he would have to face.

In fact, just at that moment, his brother returned with their onigiri. For a few seconds there was such a tense silence as to give the impression that breaking it would lead to tragedy. Sakusa inhaled and began:

"Osamu, I'm so-

"I don’t need your excuses. I’m not the one you hurt"

Sakusa lowered his head.

"Ya hurt him"

Sakusa swallowed.

"I will not forget"

Sakusa had expected it. He had never thought that everything could go well. It would take time.

It was a matter of scars.

How people learn to carry them.

How Miya Osamu had decided to share the weight of Miya Atsumu's ones.

"But if he's ready to forgive ya, then so am I"

Sakusa lifted his head. Osamu had to notice the surprise in his eyes, because he waved his fingers absently, ordering "Eat"

And Sakusa obeyed.

"It tastes good" he said, because it was true, because Osamu’s hands had always been reliable too "No poison?"

"Wouldn’t be a good publicity for the restaurant" he said in a neutral tone, but his face seemed almost amused, there was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Atsumu resurfaced shortly after from the door at the back of the room "Omi-kun, still alive?"

When they left the place Sakusa allowed himself to let go of the breath he had been holding for what had felt like years, and perhaps it had been years.

And when Atsumu took him by the sleeve of his shirt to bring him back to the world where oxygen finally filled his lungs, Sakusa whispered "Thank you"

...

They were friends.

Again.

They could have been happy like this.

They could have been satisfied with laughter. But at some point along the way, Sakusa had started to crave something else, something more intimate, he started to crave smiles.

Atsumu had so many different ways of smiling: there was the one reserved for the court, the points that his serves and tosses allowed to accumulate in rapid succession; there was the dangerous one, you could tell by the way one corner of the mouth bent slightly higher than the other, promising trouble; there was the interested one, which made his eyes shine of curiosity. There was also one that Atsumu always saved for his brother, it was different from the others, it smoothed his edges and softened his features.

Several times Sakusa wondered if, sooner or later, he could deserve one of his own too.

One of Miya Atsumu's smiles for him and him alone.

Sakusa would carve it behind his eyelids so he could see it every time he closed his eyes, like it was a dream.

He had dreamt of Atsumu a lot of times, but none of those nights could be even remotely comparable to the one that, long ago, had brought him to a world where waking up in the morning meant feeling light.

And Sakusa wanted. But wanting was selfish. Sakusa Kiyoomi was not in a position to want.

Championship was over, summer had passed, Hinata Shouyou (a boy who, years ago, had caught a fever during the national tournament and was benched) had joined the Black Jackals. He immediately got along with everyone, Bokuto had even addressed him as his disciple, Atsumu had pointed a finger at him saying "I've been waiting for ya, Shouyou-kun, don’t disappoint me" to which Hinata had replied "I can’t wait to hit your tosses, Atsumu-san"

Sometimes Atsumu smiled at him. And seeing his lips bend _like that_ reminded Sakusa of all the things that could never be his.

Every time that happened, something moved in Sakusa’s stomach, making him think he got sick. Every time he turned the other way.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was not in love with Miya Atsumu.

He kept spinning and twisting these words around his brain hoping that, at some point, they would reach the heart.

Tomorrow there would be an event organized for the fans, the team had been preparing for weeks. Sakusa was not particularly enthusiastic. The mere thought of what awaited him made his skin crawl.

The Black Jackals were heading to the hotel where they were spending the next three nights waiting for that meeting.

Atsumu had come to pick him up about thirty minutes ago, Sakusa had sat quietly on the passenger seat.

According to the navigator it was about an hour before arrival.

This meant an hour spent in a car with Miya Atsumu.

(A car that Miya Atsumu had cleaned thoroughly just for him)

But it was fine. Because Sakusa wasn’t in love with Atsumu, because watching the sun reflect on his blond hair and caressing his face had no effect on him. No effect at all.

He turned to look out the window. But now that his eyes were occupied, he had to find a way to get his mind focused on something other than the last few months with the Black Jackals, with Atsumu.

The road they were traveling was practically empty, every now and then a few cars passed them lazily. The trees followed each other on the sides of the roadway, the sky was of an intense blue spotted with clouds that idly walked on it.

It was hot. That's why Atsumu, despite Sakusa’s protests, insisted on turning on the air conditioning.

It was hard for Sakusa to say no to him.

Like when Atsumu forgot his clothes change at home and asked Sakusa to lend him a T-shirt ("Omi-Omi, d'ya want yer favorite setter to catch a cold?") Or when he was lifting his arm waiting for Sakusa to high-five him. Or worse, when after a victory, he approached him, raising a hand, miming claws while winking at him. He had looked at him like he expected Sakusa to imitate him. And Sakusa had done it (it was a half-hearted, listless gesture, but he had done it).

Atsumu had smiled at him.

And Sakusa had never been in a position to want, but that time he was selfish enough to look at that smile for longer than necessary.

It had also happened, after a training session, that Atsumu offered him ice cream to celebrate the success of his brand new service, Sakusa had not been able to refuse. Atsumu had been shocked when he'd seen him biting his ice cream without even blinking, it had seemed like he'd wanted to scream. Sakusa had almost laughed. Atsumu’s features had twisted in a grimace halfway between disgust and wonder. He had been about to get up and leave Sakusa there.

Sakusa smiled, lost in memories.

At that moment Atsumu decided to put on some music.

Time passed in silence.

At one point a song that Sakusa knew started playing and he began to hum it in a very low tone, so that Atsumu wouldn't hear it above the sound of the radio and his own voice.

"Omi-kun, are ya really mouthing the lyrics to this song?"

Sakusa didn’t answer. Guilty.

"Don’t be a coward. Sing it with me"

And Sakusa wasn’t able to say no. So they sang. They were both out of tune, but it wasn’t awkward.

_It’s fun._

When the song ended, Atsumu laughed. It was a sound that Sakusa never wanted to forget.

"So Omi, are ya ready for tomorrow night?"

Sakusa thought about what they'd have to do.

"No" he deadpanned.

"Come on, it'll be fun"

"Remind me why we’re doing this?"

"'Cause we love our fans" he said "And 'cause we all want to wear a skirt"

"Maybe _you_ want to do it" he corrected him.

"Maybe" he confessed.

"Why?"

"Why not?" He challenged "Why are ya so against this fantastic initiative?"

A pause.

"Is it because I’m gay?" his tone was playful.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was not gay.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was not in a position to want something for himself.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was not in love with Miya Atsumu.

But the truth was that human beings lie to themselves everyday.

Because shooting stars aren't actual stars.

"It’s not because you’re gay. It’s because I’m gay"

The truth was that having the stars meant nothing if there was no one to share their warmth with.

"And I’m in love with you"

Atsumu braked.

So abruptly that they were both pushed forward. The seatbelt hugged Sakusa’s stomach so hard it took his breath away.

But if the belt hadn’t done it, surely the sight of Atsumu at his side would have: his hair a little disheveled, his eyes wide open, his mouth half open, his chest went up and down in an attempt to stabilize his breaths.

Sakusa imagined he looked the same.

"Say it again"

Sakusa couldn’t tell him no.

"I’m in love with you"

Atsumu took off his belt and leaned in. His hands were placed on the back of his head as he said something like "Iwanttokissyasobadrightnowandisweariwashedmyhandsandbrushedmyteeth"

Sakusa had no time to decipher that incomprehensible mix of words, because Atsumu’s lips slammed on his own with a vehemence that made his mouth open wide. Sakusa closed his eyes, focused on the feeling of warmth that pervaded his stomach, on the gentle way in which Atsumu’s fingers moved on both sides of his neck, giving life to chills that made him vibrate.

It was the most clumsy kiss anyone had ever given him, it was the only kiss anyone had ever given him. And, for the first time in his life, Sakusa wanted something all for himself, he wanted more.

For this reason he stretched his arms towards Atsumu, resting his hands on his cheeks, caressing his soft skin with his thumbs, intertwining the other fingers with the tips of his hair.

"O... mi" Atsumu murmured against him.

Sakusa had never felt so close to heaven.

And he wanted more.

Because Miya Atsumu’s lips were warm.

Because their kiss was honest, in the same way souls always are.

Because Sakusa Kiyoomi was inevitably

hopelessly

definitely in love with Miya Atsumu.

…

They arrived late to their destination.

…

It was an hour before the start of the fan event.

Sakusa wasn’t prepared.

Everyone else was getting ready. Around him there were girls and boys who took care of costumes and makeup and Sakusa didn’t want any of them to get close to him, he didn’t want them to touch him.

Just as one of them approached him to say something, the captain and Atsumu entered. And Sakusa turned immediately, pretending not to have noticed them, because looking at them meant admitting that he saw Atsumu in a black wig, in a crimson red suit, with a skirt that did little to cover his muscular thighs.

In a few steps Meian reached the girl and told her, in the gentlest way possible, to let it go, that they would take care of Sakusa.

Atsumu was talking to makeup artists, Sakusa watched him smile and say something he couldn’t grasp. The boy nodded, handed him whatever he had in his hands, and went away.

The others did the same.

"Atsumu, I leave him to you. You have thirty minutes" the captain left too.

Atsumu smiled smugly at him.

Sakusa didn't know whether to thank him or to slap him, because it was obvious that Atsumu had already foreseen all this.

Atsumu moved quickly, passing him the clothes he should have worn. His suit was identical to the others, but the color was different: it was lilac.

Atsumu confirmed that it was clean and pushed him into the changing room. When Sakusa resurfaced, he turned to Atsumu to stab him with the sharpest look he could find in his repertoire, one that could convey his disgust, contempt and discomfort. But as soon as he saw the other’s face, he was paralyzed, because he was sure that Atsumu’s eyes weren't naturally so dark, because his mouth was wide open.

It was Sakusa's turn to show a pleased smile.

"So? What do you think?"

"I’d like to tell ya, but I’m thinking things that maybe it’s better not to say out loud" and he passed his tongue over his lips. Slowly.

Sakusa felt his cheeks burning.

Atsumu cleared his throat and then said, "Okay, let’s move or we’ll be late again"

He helped him wear a wig just like his own. Then he sat down in front of him and told him to turn to look at him.

With Atsumu so close, Sakusa had a perfect vision of the makeup that he was wearing. His eyes were surrounded by shades of blue, his eyelashes seemed much longer than usual, his cheeks were more defined and bright. Sakusa made an effort not to look at his mouth, because he had noticed, when he had looked at it not so stealthily, that there was lipstick or lip gloss or whatever that red thing was.

"I guess you’ll have to trust me with that pretty face of yers" Sakusa didn't see him smile, because he wasn't looking at his lips, but the light in his black (black?) eyes was supposed to be the equivalent of a smile.

"I hate you" he said

"Liar"

"Where did you even learn how to put makeup on people?" he asked to change the subject, because he needed to get distracted.

"I had Suna Rintarou as a teammate, obviously I know how to put makeup on people"

And he got to work. His eyes were focused, his hands were steady. Sakusa didn’t know anything about cosmetics, so he had no idea what Atsumu was applying to his face. He felt his skin getting heavier. Atsumu told him to close his eyes, then to look up, down. Every once in a while, he would scold him, telling him not to move, to stop blinking, to relax.

At one point Sakusa made the grave mistake of looking at his lips. And he saw that his tongue was going through them slowly, sensually. Sakusa was not sure that Atsumu realized the effect _all of that_ had on him (but, knowing him, he did).

Sakusa noticed that his tongue was destroying the makeup artists' work, because his lipstick was vanishing. Sakusa thought that that lipstick had to be really cheap if a little spit was enough to ruin it.

Once his work was finished, Atsumu took a few moments, a few long moments, to admire it.

"Omi, ya look beautiful"

"Do you mean I look like an idiot?"

"One doesn’t rule out the other, does it?" he chuckled as he began to apply lipstick on him.

The silence lengthened until Atsumu said "I mean beautiful"

Sakusa stiffened, this made Atsumu’s hand tremble and the line that he was painting suddenly shifted.

But it wasn't a problem because Atsumu’s fingers approached his lower lip and carefully cleaned the smudge, Atsumu repeatedly traced the profile of his lips to ensure that the rest was in place. Or maybe it was just what Sakusa wanted to believe. Because he knew Atsumu was doing it to tease him. Sakusa looked at his lips, and saw that they were ajar, concentrated.

He thought, _well, damage is already done._

And he kissed Atsumu. This time it was a more desperate kiss, but no less intense than the first one they'd shared, or the one they had shared the night before, or that morning itself.

The lipstick made it sticky, but neither of them cared.

_What would happen if..._

Sakusa moved to his neck, careful not to ruin the makeup that Atsumu had so carefully put on him.

"Omi-kun" his voice sounded deeper, more hoarse.

"'Tsumu" he whispered before he stood up and went back to his lips, not without first taking a look at the bright red mark he had left on him.

When they separated to catch their breath, Atsumu leaned in and whispered right into his ear "Later"

A promise.

They cleaned up the red disaster they had caused and went to the rest of the team.

The show was about to begin.

…

Things…happened.

But no one was allowed to talk about it.

The fans certainly had a lot of fun.

Sakusa watched Atsumu sit on his bed. After _the event_ he had changed silently, his back slightly curved, his gaze turned downward.

Sakusa had finally been able to take off that lilac suit and remove the wig, looking at his real hair in the mirror to make sure it was still acceptable. He had cleaned his face slowly, secretly reluctant to undo Atsumu’s masterpiece.

"Omi-kun, what are you even doing here? Let me die in peace"

"You’re not dying"

"How can ya be sure?"

"Because annoying people like you never die"

"Oh yeah, humor based on my pain, what a cheap shot, Kiyoomi"

Atsumu leaned his elbows to his knees, it seemed that he was reflecting, but Sakusa knew that he was simply sulking. He was adorable.

"And tell me" he began as he closed the distance between them, slipping his fingers on his forearms and lifting them, sitting nimbly on his thighs, guiding Atsumu’s arms on his hips "Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" He whispered in his ear, close enough to be heard clearly, far enough to be a provocation.

Atsumu stiffened, then plunged his head into Sakusa’s chest "Omi-kun I knew ya were blunt, but I didn’t think ya were so blunt" he chuckled, while his hands slipped under Sakusa’s t-shirt, pulling it up up up, until Atsumu’s palms relaxed on his bare back.It was a hug.

"Let’s stay like this for a while, okay?"

Sakusa smiled tenderly, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s torso and drawing him to himself. Atsumu’s breath was warm through the fabric of his shirt, it slightly tickled his sensitive skin, as if he was revealing a secret to him, and he didn’t want anyone else to know.

_This Atsumu,_ he thought, _is different from the one I saw in my dream._

But it was fine, because Sakusa would never settle for a dream, he wanted to feel, he wanted to understand, he wanted to live. He wanted to touch what he had never been allowed to touch.

There was something so intimate about knowing the way someone’s hands tremble.

At that moment Atsumu lifted his head up and put his lips on one side of Sakusa’s neck, nibbling on his diaphanous skin, while he put three fingers on the other side. Sakusa’s back shivered. That was the exact point where years ago Miya Atsumu had touched him, it was the hypocenter from which the earthquake that had opened a crack of cold space between them had generated.

But this time Sakusa didn't back down, this time Sakusa would accept everything that Atsumu was willing to give him, he would let millions of stars explode on his skin in all the places Atsumu’s fingertips decided to touch.

He moaned his name.

"Omi-kun, are ya sure you want this?"

Always so careful not to cross boundaries.

How could he say no?

"You promised, remember?"

Atsumu didn’t let him say another word. He moved his hands over Sakusa’s thighs from the knee, sinking his nails into his muscles and continuing to climb until his fingers crawled under the hem of Sakusa’s shorts, touching the edge of his boxers, stroking the lines of skin just below.

Meanwhile, his lips enjoyed leaving light marks on his throat, marks that gradually became deeper, until Atsumu’s tongue had to intervene to caress them.

His mouth slowly moved toward Sakusa’s jaw, leaving small, fleeting pecks on his chin, on his cheeks, on the sides of his mouth. Sakusa dared to look at him. Bad idea. Since Atsumu’s eyes were fixed in his own, the light that illuminated them was an invitation to sin.

And Sakusa reacted by pushing Atsumu onto the mattress,using his own weight as leverage. Atsumu realized what he was doing and let himself fall, gracefully on his back with a slight thud muffled by the sheets.

Now Sakusa was on top of him, stroking his soft and disheveled hair. And he remembered when it had another colour, he remembered a smile with some missing teeth, he remembered having held a star in his hands.

Sakusa kissed him, sharing the warmth of their lips as they had once shared that of the heavens.

Their movements were slow, because they had all the time in the world, because they wanted to feel everything, because they had both coveted this moment for years and now it was all theirs. I was all for them.

Atsumu awkwardly turned them over and helped Sakusa take off his shirt.

He kissed his collarbone, his chest, his hips. He kissed his shoulders, his arms, the palms of his hands. He kissed his thighs, his legs, his calves.

He kissed every perfectly broken piece of him.

And Sakusa could finally touch the sky.

…

Atsumu and Sakusa were looking at the stars.

They had brought a picnic cloth on which they could lie. In that uncontaminated area where they were located the sky's face was adorned with beautiful golden freckles.

Sakusa was telling his boyfriend all the truths he didn’t know about space, about planets, about the millions of dots watching them from up there.

He told him how stars were born, that some of them have a companion, that shooting stars are not real stars but meteoroids that came into contact with our atmosphere.

Until at some point Sakusa asked the question that he never had the courage to ask aloud "'Tsumu, what did you wish for that night?"

Atsumu turned to look at him, his eyes alive, his lips raised in a soft smile.

Sakusa trembled waiting for the revelation.

"I wanted to keep playing volleyball with ya and Samu, that’s all"

Sakusa kissed his temple "I should have expected it from you"

"And you?"

"I promised myself never to tell you" he plunged his nose into his hair, they tasted like vanilla.

"Why?" he chuckled.

"You’d tell me it’s stupid"

Atsumu turned to him and caressed his arm, his eyes looked huge, his lower lip leaned slightly forward "Come on Omi, tell me"

How could he say no?

Sakusa confessed. Atsumu and the heavens were the only witnesses.

Atsumu didn't make fun of him. Atsumu drew him in and kissed his forehead without saying a word.

So it was Sakusa who broke the silence.

"Do you remember that thing your mother used to say? About stars that help you understand when you’re in love with someone?"

Atsumu looked up, pretending to think about it.

" _The stars look brighter with them_ " he whispered.

"She was right"

Atsumu turned to him, a curious spark was dancing on his irises "Space has always fascinated her, all that stuff about planets, meteorites, constellations"

Sakusa smiled.

"Do you want me to show you the constellations above us?"

That spark in Atsumu's eyes made its way through his face until it became a smirk "Personally I’m more interested in learning all about the ones you have on yer skin, Omi-kun"

"What are you talking ab- ah"

Atsumu’s fingers connected the two moles on his forehead, then they drew lines among the moles on his neck, those on his right forearm, the three on his left palm.

And his hands were warm.

His touch was honest, in the same way stars always were.

And in that moment, under the night sky, Sakusa Kiyoomi thought he understood what it meant

to love

and to be loved in return.

**Author's Note:**

> "Can you write a whole paragraph without saying that Atsumu's hands are warm?" you ask. The answer is NO, I CAN'T.
> 
> If you arrived here, thank you so much for reading. It took me a month to write this and I struggled so much (I literally almost teared up while writing about them finally making peace and I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY) but here I am now, posting it. 
> 
> If you enjoyed feel free to leave a comment and scream at me here or on twitter (@nonlovso)


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